The Plotless, Senseless and Pointless Xmen Fic
by Rubber Duki
Summary: This is an absolutely senseless, pointless and plotless fanfic. (Did I mention stupid?) But if insanity or a good laugh is what you're attracted to, go ahead and read.
1. Superficial Mind Lint

=Superficial Mind Lint=  
  
Disclaimer ~ you don't really expect this fic to make any sense do ya? You are? Oh C-  
  
Rubber Duki do not and will never own the X-men characters.  
  
*****  
  
It was a bright summer day. . . the week before yesterday. Today it's gray and blahish, and it had nothing to do with Storm's temperate to temperfilled mood swings. . . no really. But seeing how the weather holds no significance to this story, let's change the subject.  
  
Inside the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters (yeah right), coffee was brewing. Not the rubbish low-caffeine type. Nope. This was the good stuff. Taken from the feces of a feline animal that roams the other side of the world. The cat only eats the ripest coffee beans, which it doesn't digest fully. As it passes down the cat's intestines, the beans acquire a special taste which humans seemed to love.  
  
Too much information? Yeah, I thought so.  
  
Anyways, the coffee was expensive stuff considering it came out of some cat's bottom.  
  
"Thank you very much for ruining our high calorie, high sugar breakfast." Several young mutants stated as they entered the dining room. . . Even though they couldn't have possibly heard the narration. . . and therefore cannot direct the comment at anyone in particular. . . and why were they so health conscious?  
  
"Hello? Can you like stop talking like we're not here?"  
  
Ok. . . odd. . .  
  
"Yeah that's right. We can hear you. What's with the speech about coffee?"  
  
Ahhh! There's the problem. I forgot to turn on the 'Stop narration from reaching characters because otherwise you'll hear a lot of crack pot stuff from the said characters about how stupid/crazy the author is for sending in all the moronic ideas and also stir up paranoia' machine. *Flicks on machine, a.k.a. Bloody piece of low budget junk*  
  
Is has come to my attention that I'd just been blabbing for the past coupla paragraphs. So let's proceed with the story.  
  
Professor Xavier sipped his coffee, trying to push down the earlier comment about the beans' origins. His attempts however, were futile. And proceeded to throw up in the nearest toilet, cursing the author's incompetence and bad hairstyle.  
  
Breakfast over at the young mutant's table on the other hand, went on like normal.  
  
"Pass the salt please."  
  
"Why do you need salt?"  
  
"To sprinkle over my cereal, now pass the salt."  
  
"Who sprinkles salt on cereal?"  
  
"I do. Now pass the salt!"  
  
"Are you sure you don't want sugar?"  
  
"NO! JUST PASS THE FRIGGING SALT!"  
  
"You're eating fruit loops. Salt would taste- "  
  
"Fine, I'll get my own salt." And with that, Jean used her telekinesis to bring the salt to her.  
  
Over at the other side of the breakfast table, they talked about ordinary everyday things.  
  
"- And she was like-"  
  
"You know what Kitty?" Jamie suddenly spoke up.  
  
"What Jamie?"  
  
"Did you know, if you stop saying 'like', 'so' and 'totally' on regular and unnecessary intervals, you can decrease your necessary speech time by up to 20%. If you use all that spare time, you can utilize it to up your character development within the story by up to 18%."  
  
"Really? Then how would I do on the ratings?"  
  
"Hey, who knows. You might end up with as much character development as Scott. . ."  
  
And in a bathroom upstairs, Rogue was preparing for her day. Staring into the mirror, she mentally plotted out her daily schedule.  
  
'More eyeliner?' she thought to herself 'Why not. Gotta look gothy for the fans.' She took out a palm pilot and called up the calendar. 'Let's see what Ah got planned for today. . .  
  
9:36am ~ Have a 'coincidental' meeting with Gambit (To keep all the Romy fans satisfied) but abruptly end the conversation with an argument (keep the fans in suspense, that's the key to character popularity).  
  
Also, (10:15am) walk past the Brotherhood house and 'incidentally' bump into Pietro. Insult him as he helps me up. (That should keep the Rietro fans off m'ah back for now).  
  
10:45am ~ Back at the institute. Steal a glance at Scott (that should do for now to shut up the Scogue fans).  
  
3:42pm ~ Go off somewhere alone and 'inadvertently' let out some crap about m'ah troubled past.'  
  
Rogue looked at her plans and sighed. It ain't easy being in to center of a huge fan focus. But someone's gotta do it. . .  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Meanwhile, having finished her salty fruit loops. Jean crept towards the garage. The theme song of 'Mission Impossible' was playing in the background (I don't know why, but Bobby loved to play that song over and over again on the stereo). Jean winced as she heard the anguish screams of Bobby as the other teenagers tried to get past him to turn the music off. Jean's immediate reaction was to act as a mediator and solve the dispute. But she was almost at the garage and. . .  
  
"Hey Red, whatcha doing there?" Logan asked when he saw her through the open garage door. Jean was so surprised that she fell over, butt first. Even though it wasn't a big surprise. . . and she was standing perfectly fine. Oh heck, maybe she was just clumsy.  
  
"Rubbing my sore ass. What does it look like?" Jean replied testily as she rubbed her sore ass.  
  
"No, I meant what are you doing with that body bag."  
  
Jean looked at the large, lumpy bag she was dragging behind her "What about the bag? Can't a girl make a short road trip with a bag suspiciously in the shape of a body?"  
  
Wolverine shrugged "I don't see why not. . ."  
  
Jean frowned "Do you have a problem with that?"  
  
"I just said why not- "  
  
" Because if you try to stop me, bad things will happen. Most likely to you."  
  
Logan was confused at the sudden aggressiveness in Jean's behavior "I wasn't about to stop you. I don't see anything wrong - "  
  
"That's it! I told you not to get in my way!" And with that, Jean pinned Logan against a wall with her powers.  
  
She shoved the bag into the X-van and drove off.  
  
The effects of Jean's telekinesis wore off as soon as she drove through the gates. Logan dropped suddenly to the floor, wondering if it was national 'Pick on Wolverine' day. He'd already been driven to the garage by Bobby's continuous playing of action movies theme songs, and now this.  
  
"Hi Wolverine, what're you doing?" Scott asked in a perfectly cheerful voice, along with his perfectly cleaned and iron shirt, his perfect hair and a perfectly written 'Kick Me' sign taped to his back. (Written by a not- so-perfect teenager within the institute).  
  
"I'm rubbing my sore ass. What does it look like?" Wolverine replied, mimicking Jean's actions just a couple of minutes before.  
  
"Right. . . I was just wondering, have you seen Jean?"  
  
"Yeah, just then. She went off for a drive. Didn't seem too happy."  
  
Scott looked thoughtful "That's the sixth time in the past two weeks. Where does she go?"  
  
"Was that a rhetorical question?"  
  
"It is if you don't know the answer."  
  
"And I don't know the answer. . ."  
  
"So it must be rhetorical."  
  
"Right."  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
So where DOES Jean go you ask? Ok, so you didn't ask. Actually I have no way of knowing if you did ask, so I really don't know whether or not. . .  
  
Fine, let's just be hypothetical and say that you DID ask where Jean goes. So I'll tell you (whether you like it or not).  
  
It'd all started around two weeks ago (ok, I realize this doesn't explain where Jean goes . . . yet). Jean saw something interesting while in a food fight with the Acolytes. While cursing that she didn't take up the opportunity to leave when she had a chance, she saw something that was truly amazing. . . Magneto was bending a stainless steel spoon.  
  
After getting all the whipped cream off her hair that day, Jean began to contemplate the things in life. The shoe sale next week, school finales coming up, submitting an article to a teen magazine about how to get whipped cream out of hair. . . yep, as all of you know, Jean was a very deep person.  
  
But all that has nothing to do with her little trips, so I'll get to the point.  
  
After finishing her breakfast the next day, she began to wonder if she too, could bend a spoon (don't ask me why, because I don't know). After destroying about thirty odd spoons, she felt a need for a greater challenge. So she picked up the phone and dialed the Acolytes' HQ.  
  
The phone call went a little something like this:  
  
Magneto ~ "Hello? Acolytes HQ. How may we cause you major pain and destruction?"  
  
Jean ~ "Is that Magneto?"  
  
Mags ~ "Yes. And you are . . .?"  
  
Jean ~ "Jean Grey."  
  
Mags ~ "And you're calling because. . ."  
  
Jean ~ "I'd like to challenge you to a spoon bending competition."  
  
Mags ~ "Hmmm. Depends, plastic or metal."  
  
Jean ~ "Standard *insert brand name here* metal spoons."  
  
Mags ~ *pause* "Deal."  
  
So that's where Jean's been going. So far she's lost all the various spoon bending games, but she was determined (and a sore loser) and she had something up her sleeve that would surely blow Magneto away. . .  
  
*****  
  
Yep, the whole thing was pointless, plotless, and random mind lint scraped from deep within the swirling vortex that is my brain.  
  
But if you'd like, I could write more *hint hint*  
  
-Rubber Duki 


	2. Don't die Jean!

=Don't Die Jean! =  
  
AN: I was really, REALLY surprised that people actually read my last chapter (let alone review). It (like all my other ideas) started at school. I'd finished my maths test early and decided to scribble some random things on a pad. The world works in odd ways. . .  
  
Disclaimer ~ I. . . wait, hang on a sec. *searches pockets* I know I've written an amusing disclaimer somewhere here. . . nope, sorry folks.  
  
Rubber Duki does not and will never own the X-men characters.  
  
*****  
  
*Location ~ Acolytes HQ*  
  
Pyro was balancing uncertainly on several stacked chairs, struggling to get a peek through a window. The tower of furniture wobbled threateningly as John cranked his neck as high as he could. . .  
  
"What's dat you're doing?"  
  
The four chairs, one after the other, toppled as Pyro jumped a little in surprise. He tumbled into some unpleasant looking rose bushes.  
  
"Rubbing my sore ass. What does it look like?" John replied, rubbing his sore ass and in the same time trying to get the thorns out.  
  
"Non, Remy meant what are you doing standing on all zose chairs?"  
  
"If I tell you then you'll go tattling to Magneto."  
  
"Remy won't do that!"  
  
"You did last time!"  
  
"Dat was because you set my trench coat on fire!"  
  
"Oh! And heaven forbid we destroy that piece of fangirl worshipped trenchcoat!"  
  
"It's dat coat dat supports the popularity marks of us Acolytes!"  
  
"Hey! I got fans too!"  
  
"Wow! All those exclamation marks you two are using must mean that you're really mad and serious!"  
  
Remy and John turned to find Sabertooth standing beside them.  
  
"What? Why are you looking at me like that? I just wanted to join the conversation!" Sabertooth shrugged before walking away.  
  
"Now where were we?"  
  
"Remy just wanted to know what you were doing."  
  
"Why didn't you just say so?"  
  
"I did! But you- "  
  
"If you must know," Pyro cut in "I was trying to see what Magneto was up to. Haven't you noticed that he seems to be spending a lot of time in his study these past few weeks?"  
  
Remy reached out to rub his goatee, only to remember reading some magazine article about rubbing it too much and it'll go bald. And Remy definitely did not want to lose his goatee. In his mind that'll be a terrible tragedy. He'll lose his fans, be kicked out of the Acolytes, forced to live on the streets, chased by anti-mutant mobs. . . how incredibly sad and angsty that'll be. . . perhaps it could become a promising fanfic? Maybe about what happens if Remy lost his goatee, a humorous adventure with. . . shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!  
  
Ok, I'm better now. That had nothing to do with anything did it? So moving on. . .  
  
Remy rubbed his goatee, ignoring the author's random babbling "Gambit does t'ink Magneto has been too long in the study. What does he do?"  
  
Pyro waved his hands in the air "I don't know! I have no idea! He covered the window with newspaper! And I also don't know why there are so many exclamation marks in this paragraph!"  
  
Remy gives Pyro a I-think-you're-crazy-oh-wait-I-already-know-you're-crazy look. "Who knows? Maybe Magneto has a girlfriend?"  
  
There's a long pause while they look at each other before ~ "Hahahahahaha. . . Magneto has a girlfriend. . . that's a good one."  
  
*Meanwhile*  
  
Magneto viewed the scene outside his study from a surveillance camera. He sighed and shook his head when he saw Gambit giggle like a schoolgirl. Just as he was making a note on his day-planner about giving Gambit laughing lessons, the phone rang. . .  
  
Mags ~ "Hello? Acolytes HQ. Doom is our business and we do business at a great price."  
  
Jean ~ "I'm on my way. Be there in 30 seconds."  
  
Mags ~ "Ok, but enter carefully this time, John and Remy are outside my study."  
  
Jean ~ "Understood. Bye." She hung up the phone as Magneto opened his skylight.  
  
As predicted, 30seconds later the X-van flew over the gate. Yes you read right, flew. As in fly . . .y'know. . . Because the gate was closed? And jean was in a hurry. . . I should think my sentences through before I type them shouldn't I?  
  
Yeah, well, Jean lifted herself along with the bag into Magneto's study with the use of her powers.  
  
"You really need some new lackeys Mags." Jean said as she proceeded to sit down on a chair, dropping the bag beside her feet.  
  
"Why?" Magneto was puzzled, not that he didn't think she was right (Oh the numerous times he'd wondered if those were the best help he could get). It came as a surprise to him that Jean would be so blunt.  
  
"Because when I accidentally dropped this," She pointed at her bag "Almost right in front of Gambit, he didn't even notice. He just kept on muttering about someone having a girl and laughing." She shrugged "I'm sorry to say this Mags, but you don't pick your watchdogs very well."  
  
Magneto blinked stupidly for several seconds, quite possibly because it'd seemed that Jean had just insulted him. . . or maybe (just maybe) because the author could not think of an interesting and amusing way for him to respond. (Which ever reason you prefer)  
  
Jean opened the bag she had so lovingly dragged around for the past two hours, revealing the contents to be. . . spoons. . . "So are we gonna bend spoons or not?"  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Back at the manor, Scott was enjoying a bowl of cereal. Even if it WAS the afternoon. . . he liked cereal ok? Right at that moment however, the cereal had trouble reaching his mouth, as the utensil he was using was bent grossly out of shape.  
  
Scott was feeling happy, he'd just caught the person who pinned the note to his back and had made sure he'll receive double danger room sessions for the next couple of weeks.  
  
'Yep, life's good' he thought as he absentmindedly splashed milk onto his glasses. 'Well, life would be good if I could find a straight spoon to eat with.'  
  
(AN: I lied, Scott doesn't particularly like cereal. I just wanted someone to use a spoon. It's not wrong is it?)  
  
It was at that moment when a large silver orb landed within the manor grounds. The orb opened and Jean stumbled out.  
  
"Stupid Magneto and his stupid leaky fuel line. . ." Jean muttered as she glanced down at her motor oil-stained blouse. "He should really fix his machines before he offers rides home." (What? Do you expect Magneto to REALLY power the orbs by himself? It's a bloody flying machine I tell ya)  
  
Anyways, having heard the orb land, Scott rushed outside to (what he thought) was a bloodstained Jean (y'know, ruby sunglasses. It's murder when you're trying to tell one color from another).  
  
"JEAN!" Scott stumbled and tripped on a step. . . but that's not important because he got right up again and ran towards Jean. "JEAN! Are you hurt? You're not dying are you?"  
  
"No and get off me you- -"  
  
Scott wasn't listening "Oh no!" He looked like he was about to cry "You can't die Jean!" he paused "You still owe me money."  
  
Sad violin music played in the background.  
  
"MR LOGAN!! BOBBY'S PLAYING STUFF ON THE STEREO AGAIN!" Someone yelled, and the music abruptly stopped.  
  
Jean rolled her eyes. "Shut up Scott, it's motor oil."  
  
Scott wiped a bit of oil off with his finger and sniffed it "Oh."  
  
"And did you seriously think that I could die? I mean come'on I'm a main Xmen character. The creators'll never let me die. Sheesh."  
  
Scott thought for awhile before smiling "Yeah, you're right. It's not like they're going to pretend to kill you then reborn you numerous times as 'Phoenix' or something."  
  
The two laughed at the ridiculous suggestion.  
  
"So where were you? And where's the X-van?"  
  
"I was bending spoons with Magneto. But don't worry, I'll never be doing that again."  
  
Scott took this in as if she'd just said that she's been to the mall. "So why aren't you ever bending spoons with him again?"  
  
"Let's put it this way. Would you compete with someone who constantly cheats, is a sore loser and is prone to dishing death threats?"  
  
"Uh. . . no? I'd never enter a contest with someone like that."  
  
Jean raised an eyebrow and sighed "Really? Well neither would he."  
  
"So what did you do?"  
  
"I stole a whole bunch of plastic spoons, spray painted it silver and gave it to Mags."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"On the bright side. I was winning before he kicked me out, too bad he kinda squashed the X-van."  
  
"Oh." Scott blinked "So where did you get all the plastic spoons from?"  
  
***** Two hours ago. Location ~ a fast food outlet in Bayville *****  
  
Lance Alvers was sitting on a stool behind the counter. He'd finally managed to get away from the brotherhood for a little while and for once was enjoying an early lunch by himself.  
  
Just as Lance was about to take a final bit out of his burger, an agitated waiter came out from the kitchen.  
  
"Someone's taken all the spoons! They just suddenly started to float out the window!" The waiter said to the waitress who working behind the counter. He made no attempt to keep his voice down and within seconds everyone was staring at Lance.  
  
"Hey! Aren't you a mutie?" Someone called out from the back.  
  
The waiter acknowledged that statement and advanced up to where Lance was sitting. "Did you have anything to do with it?"  
  
Lance just glared "Oh yeah, I used my superspeed and ran to the back where I then telekinetically took all the spoons before returning here to look innocent." He replied sarcastically "And by taking all the spoons I shall begin the first phase of my plan to take over the world."  
  
The waiter stared Lance down for a few seconds before "I knew it! A confession!" He gestured to someone at the back of the restaurant "Take him away. I have all of what he'd just said on tape."  
  
Lance's eyes widened as two built biker-dudes came up and grabbed him "Wait! That wasn't a confession! I was being sarcastic!" He yelled as he was being forcibly pulled outside "My powers cause earthquakes! I don't have superspeed OR telekinesis! Watch." His eyes rolled back as he caused a tremor that leveled the building.  
  
"That wasn't good was it." Lance muttered to the two men who accompanied him.  
  
"Nope."  
  
***** Back to the present. *****  
  
"Trust me, you don't need to know. . . " Jean replied to Scott's question.  
  
*******  
  
Yeah, you asked for another bit of my randomness, so here ya go. I won't be able to update either of my Fanfics much for the next two weeks due to the fact that I have three projects I need to hand in. . . not to mention try and find out who died in the new HP book (I'm not a fan of HP. I just want to know who dies)  
  
-Rubber Duki  
  
Next time ~ does this story finally get a plot? *No* Where's Lance? *In jail* How would the brotherhood get him out? *Shrugs* Would I cause more people to fall on their ass? *Yeah* Can you stop answering the questions? *Ok* 


	3. How To Get Out Of Jail For Dummies

=How To Get Out Of Jail For Dummies (literally) =  
  
AN ~ I have so much homework in front of me right now that I feel like falling over and twitching. . . But I decided to write this anyway (I can always pull a late-nighter). I've also found myself reading Harry Potter fics. . . which is HIGHLY uncharacteristic of me (I swear, with the amount of people talking about the new book that it's been poisoning my mind).  
  
My thanks to the two reviewers that told me who died (even though I kinda found out on my own). I personally don't care that he died. . . I don't get why people insist on moping (he's FICTIONAL people! Therefore he CAN'T die. . . because he's not alive in the first place. Logical enough?)  
  
People also seem to want to kill me after I'd accidentally spilled the spaghetti sauce on who died. . . weird. . .  
  
Disclaimer ~ Me not own. . .  
  
*****  
  
*Location ~ Bayvill Police station*  
  
In all my juvenile experiences, I've seen my fair amount of jails (On TV. . . what, you didn't expect me to have BEEN in jail before did you?). Rusty iron bars, high tech stainless steel, key-card entry expensive chrome, let's just say there's a LOT to choose from, (my personal favorite being the magnetic force-field ones).  
  
Unfortunately, when you're the one getting arrested, the style of your holding cell has already been predetermined for you.  
  
In Lance Alvers' case, he was stuck in a police station with a budget seemingly equivalent to my high school's.  
  
(AN: Ahem. . . that metaphor wasn't entirely correct. . . uh, my high school is quite nicely funded by our er. . . efficient government system *shifty eyes*)  
  
But why would a town swarming with mutants have such low levels of security you ask? Shouldn't they at least get decent funds? Well. . . Because I haven't started taking civics classes yet, don't expect answers anytime soon.  
  
Back to the description and the décor of the cell:  
  
The little room was damp and musty, and the overflowing toilet in the corner did not improve the image on the level of hygiene. There were the standardized bars and everything but next to that, there wasn't much difference from the brotherhoods' place.  
  
If all of the above didn't get to Lance, it was the thought that he'd actually been arrested for stealing spoons. . . which he didn't steal. To tell the truth, he was beginning to think that the whole of Bayvill was a secret containment for nut-cases. It didn't help lift any of his suspicions when Lance saw an officer accidentally set a felon free because he was trying to read the new Harry Potter book and hand-cuff the criminal at the same time.  
  
Lance was contemplating the best way to break down the cell wall without causing the ceiling to crash down on him when. . . the rest of the 'hood showed up, looking like demented superheros as they posed just inside the front entrance.  
  
Avalanche swore under his breath. . . he could've gotten out of this loony bin and no one would've stopped him. He almost cried.  
  
"Why?! Why is it every time there's finally an exit out of this life that my friends come and spoil it?" Lance said sadly to himself in a soft voice.  
  
"Did you say something Lance?" Pietro zipped up to his cell.  
  
Lance stared blankly at the rest of the 'Hood, who were systematically trashing the place. Todd strayed too close to one of Wanda's hex-bolts and was accidentally (I think) thrown against the bars.  
  
"What are you doing?" Lance asked Todd, the only one not currently on rampage.  
  
"Rubbing my sore ass. What does it look like?" Todd replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
'Lunatics, every one of them.' Lance thought to himself. Unaware of his hypocriticalness, he waved towards the direction of the general destruction "That's not what I meant! What's with all that?"  
  
Todd rolled his eyes "We're getting you outta jail. Duh." He held up a book "And ta make sure we didn't screw it up, we even looked up reference material."  
  
'How To Break A Mate Out Of Jail For Dummies. 2003 edition' was the title.  
  
"You'd be surprised at how many categories it comes in."  
  
(Note: It is at this point of writing when I think my IQ had dropped 20 points)  
  
"So. . . the book told you guys to do all that?" Lance pointed at Pietro, who had stolen an officer's Harry Potter book and was reading it at superspeed (Yes, the Pottermaniacs have infected my mind)  
  
"Well. . . no. . . He just had a lot of caffeine. . ."  
  
By then, the entire Bayvill police force (of two) was pretty much unconscious.  
  
"Ok, that's the first part done. What does the book say now?" Fred said as he walked up to Toad the book-bearer along with the rest of the team.  
  
Todd flipped through some pages. "It's not here." He frowned.  
  
"What's not here?" Pietro put down the HP book and ran up to Toad's side.  
  
Todd flipped through some more pages "It's ripped out. We're missing an entire chapter."  
  
Pietro and Todd stared at a section of the book that wasn't there.  
  
"So. . . any suggestions?"  
  
Blinks were shared around the room. Except for Wanda, who rolled her eyes and bent the bars with her powers.  
  
"There's your missing plan. Now lets get out."  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
*Location ~ Acolytes HQ*  
  
"I bet you're all wondering why I called you here today." Magneto announced to his loyal lackeys.  
  
"No. Not really." John replied.  
  
"We have a meeting every week." Victor stated.  
  
"So we pretty much know what to expect." Remy added.  
  
"It would save so much time if you'd just make a newsletter." Piotr continued "We do not discuss much durink meetinks anyway."  
  
"So what's the point?" Jason concluded.  
  
Magneto shook his head, spraying Victor and Piotr with his dandruff. "The point of this meeting is. . . it's that time of the month again."  
  
The Acolytes (minus Mags) groaned.  
  
"Really? Time seems to past so fast."  
  
"Not this again. . ."  
  
"Remy could've sworn it's only been three weeks."  
  
"I can't believe it's time for. . ."  
  
"Plotting Evil." They all answered in unison.  
  
Magneto looked hurt "Don't you like my planning sessions?"  
  
"Well. . ." Mastermind trailed off "It's not so much the planning that we hate. . . it's the part when the plan gets screwed sideways and we get our butts kicked *again* that worries us."  
  
"And why do WE always have to be the one to come up with the plot? Can't the X-men do it for once?"  
  
This, ladies and gentlemen, will be our only insightful comment of today (courtesy of Pyro).  
  
Their fearless leader frowned "Because we're the bad guys! Ever heard a story where the side of evil didn't start the plot? And ever heard of a story without a plot?"  
  
Er. . . yes?  
  
"But why do we always lose?" Pyro wasn't about to give up his argument. "Isn't it a bit stupid to plan something just to make the good guys look better?"  
  
Mags banged his fist on the table, making the rest of the Acolytes jump at his action.  
  
"Sorry, had to squish that bug." Erik said sheepishly as he wiped his hand on Gambit's coat. "Back to the discussion. I'll tell you why we plan! We plan for the sake of evil! We plan for the hope that maybe, just maybe, we'll break free of the popular cliché where good always wins! We'll, we'll use. . ." His eyes sparkled as an idea emerged "Rabid Rubber Ducks!"  
  
A giant sign with the word 'cliché' painted across fell from the general direction of upwards.  
  
The Acolytes blinked. Not so much because of the sign, but because they were wondering how Magneto would get his hands on rabid rubber ducks.  
  
Magneto read the sign "Fine. Erm. . . how about headless chickens?"  
  
*Bang* went another sign.  
  
"A swarm of kangaroos?"  
  
*Smash*  
  
"Rats?"  
  
*Boom*  
  
"Paperclips?"  
  
*Clunk*  
  
The master of magnetism was starting to get annoyed "Ok, how about death by cliché signs?"  
  
There was a pause before -  
  
*Crash* A much larger sign broke the table. It said: 'Don't steal my ideas'.  
  
Magneto looked at his amused lackeys "Any of you have a bright suggestion?"  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
*Location ~ Brotherhood Boarding House*  
  
"So, Lance, tell us again why you got arrested?" Fred asked apprehensively as Lance paced around the living room. Every once so often he would let loose a small quake to remind the Brotherhood that he was still very, very angry. (Notice the repetition? Yep, Lance = angry)  
  
"I was FRAMED!" He shouted, "SOMEONE EVIL WANTED TO PERPETRATE ME AS A CRIMINAL!"  
  
"Have ya eaten something odd lately?"  
  
He ignored Todd "They must've been a mutant to be able to manipulate spoons like that. . ." Lance muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear.  
  
By now the Brotherhood was beginning to get a little scared.  
  
"I know! It's must've been a mutant with the ability to control plastic! Some sort of Plastic-Man!"  
  
Wanda raised an eyebrow as Lance went on about this 'Plastic Man' and how he was going to hunt him down. "Should I talk some sense into him? Maybe hex him unconscious?"  
  
Pietro raised his index finger to his lips "No way! This is the first plot siting of the entire story. If it wasn't for this, we wouldn't be in this fic at all!"  
  
Wanda silently agreed. A plot. Surely that wasn't too much to ask. . . right?  
  
*****  
  
Shock! Horror! A plot?  
  
No. Not even close *insert evil laughter*  
  
Yes I'm still busy. I just started taekwondo lessons and I STILL have one more project due. I do however, have a two week winter holiday starting next week so I'll do more writing then  
  
-Rubber Duki 


	4. Doom Is A 4 Letter Word

=Doom Is A Four Letter Word=  
  
AN ~ Some people wandered why I'm having a winter holiday right now. The answer is, I live in New Zealand. During July it's pretty much in the middle of winter (You lucky people of the northern hemisphere and your summer holidays. . . *envy*).  
  
I take this moment to apologize for all my previous and future spelling errors and typos. Let's just say spell-check and grammar-check aren't the highest up the AI evolutionary tree.  
  
Disclaimer: Bow down to me! The almighty! With the power to spew out random verbal garbage which seems to make people laugh! Does that qualify me for the ownership of Xmen?  
  
Apparently not.  
  
*****  
  
*Location ~ Xavier's ridiculously long name for his house of accident prone mutants*  
  
It was another sunny day in Bayville. Even if the weather is a stupid way to start a paragraph, I'm doin' it.  
  
The birds were chirping, all the kids were outside, and the students at the Xavier Institute were hiding and scattering in various directions as Kitty worked hard in the kitchen. . .  
  
"Sheesh! It's not like my cooking's THAT bad. . ." Kitty grumbled after Roberto had walked in, yelped when he saw Kitty with a mixing bowl, and ran off like my dog did when I tried to give him a bath (at 35k/h).  
  
She turned her ingredients ferociously with a wooden spoon and muttered something about fanfic writers and their clichés about how bad her cooking was.  
  
But it's reassuring to know that no matter how OOC (out of character) a fic can get, at least you can always count on one thing: Katherine Pryde's culinary creations will always damage people and property.  
  
Kind of like a natural disaster really.  
  
Today's dish of terror: A nutty, macadamia bundt cake.  
  
Now. I could single-handedly crash Thesaurus.com and describe just how that cake could damage your digestive system, but I've been asked since the first chapter never EVER to explain any food ever again.  
  
So I won't.  
  
Instead, I shall follow the sacred path of every 'Kitty's-cooking-is- equivalent-to-a-bioweapon' fanfic and choose a victim to sample her cake. Oh! And here he comes now!  
  
Forge strolled into the kitchen, unaware of what awaits him. He was the only person inside the mansion that did not know of Kitty's jaw-cracking muffins, or her fire-resistant cookies.  
  
Poor fool.  
  
"Hi Kitty, where is everyone? Isn't it lunchtime?"  
  
Kitty removed her cake from the cooling rack. "They must be busy or something." She smiled innocently "Would you like some cake?"  
  
Y'see, Forge was smart. And any person with a LITTLE bit of logic could put two and two together and figure out just WHY everyone wasn't there. The half dozen burnt cakes around the counter should also give him a clue.  
  
But Forge was also hungry. And hunger has a way of messing with people's perception.  
  
"Well?" Kitty held up a slice.  
  
NO! NO! Say no and run!  
  
"Sure."  
  
Gah. Nice knowing you Forge.  
  
Kitty put the slice onto a plate and handed Forge a spoon. He thanked her and took a bite without hesitation. Kitty looked on with anticipation while Forge chewed. . . and chewed. . . and chewed. . . he's still chewing. . .  
  
"Well?"  
  
He seemed to be unwilling to swallow, but he succeeded. "I'm not sure if you know this Kitty." Forge paused, looking pained. "But the macadamia nuts still have shells on them." He picked something from between his teeth "And this looks like part of an egg shell. . ."  
  
Kitty sighed. "It's hard cracking those nuts! They keep bouncing off the counters when I hit them with the hammer. The only unshelled ones were the pieces I picked up from the floor."  
  
Forge raised an eyebrow "But that doesn't explain the eggshell." He paused, and picked something off his cake. "Make that eggSHELLS."  
  
"So I'm a little clumsy. . ."  
  
"What about the burnt raisins?"  
  
"The oven needs repairs."  
  
"Or maybe," Forge replied dryly "Maybe, you need to work a little more on your cooking skills."  
  
Kitty rolled her eyes, "Well I don't DENY it. But you have to admit," she pointed at her previous creations "I AM improving."  
  
"Uh huh." Forge said in an I'm-not-so-sure-about-this-but-if-it-means-I- don't-have-to-finish-the-cake-and-I-get-a-cool-hyphenated-sentence-then- fine kind of tone. "If you want, I can always get you a nut cracker to make the process easier."  
  
"Really?" Kitty was surprised. No one had ever volunteered to help with her cooking before.  
  
"Yep. Don't have anything better to do." Forge told her in a confident manner that all would-be victims of horrible humor fanfics do.  
  
But meanwhile. . .  
  
*Location ~ Acolytes HQ*  
  
Sabertooth raised a hand (the meeting was still commencing). When Magneto nodded in his direction, Victor spoke up "Do we get any toilet breaks?" The team had been in the meeting room since the day before.  
  
Magneto furrowed his brows (which is a bit useless seeing how nobody would notice it from under his helmet) "No! We're staying here till we have a plot!"  
  
And so the silence resumed.  
  
*Location ~ Brotherhood's Boarding House*  
  
It seems the Brotherhood has also been concentrating on a plot. Even if it WAS one of the most exasperated, random and attention seeking plot ever to grace the world of fanfiction.  
  
Lance was standing on top of the dining table, explaining his complicated plan to locate this 'PlasticMan'. It involved the whole Brotherhood, explosions, and Cerebro. He might've been more successful in getting his point across if his sentences made grammatical sense, or if his audience hadn't been betting on how long before the table collapsed.  
  
In the middle of describing a way of breaking into 'Cerebro', Lance was interrupted when Pietro let out a sudden outburst wondering when had leadership of the 'hood' changed hands to Lance.  
  
"Because I was the first to come up with a possible structure for this pointless story." Lance replied bluntly.  
  
Wanda rolled her eyes "That's getting old."  
  
"What's getting old?"  
  
"Cracking remarks about this story needing a plot. You can only be amused for so long before the repetitive statements get cheesy. I mean COME'ON we GET IT!"  
  
Hey! I was only reminding the readers of what this is about! Of course Wanda can't hear me. . .  
  
"It ain't gonna work." Todd spoke up after a long pause.  
  
"What's not going to work?" Lance was beginning to think that his friends weren't good at including all the information needed for a full explanation.  
  
"The plan."  
  
"Why not?" Fred asked "It's simple enough. Crash through security, get to Cerebro, look up plastic-controlling mutants, and away we go."  
  
"It's da ironic forces of fiction. It'll stop us some'ow. Note da formula: Us = bad guys. Bad guys = failure. We won't be able ta succeed. This story won't make sense."  
  
Lance laughed. It was a oh-you-don't-get-it laugh (which should NEVER be used by someone who's about to get something SOOO wrong.) "Who said we're the bad guys?"  
  
"Every news stations within america and across the Atlantic?" Pietro offered.  
  
"I know all about the laws of fiction." he ignored Pietro "That's why we're going to have to defy them."  
  
"How?" Pietro could defy the laws of physics but he wasn't sure about fiction.  
  
"Hey, if they can do it in reality why not in fanfics?" And with that, the table collapsed and Wanda collected her winnings.  
  
"If they could do what in reality?" Fred scratched his head, which couldn't decide on growing hair or not (Evo artists seems to have trouble deciding too) "Hello? Wake up Lance! You need to finish your sentence! Lancie-poo. . . hello. . ."  
  
*Location ~ Bayville Cinema/Mall*  
  
Jean and Scott were NOT on a date. How could they be? Nearly everyone from the institute was there.  
  
Jean turned to Scott when no one was looking. She'd been wanting to ask him something for a very long time. . .  
  
"Scott?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
". . . Why DID the chicken cross the road?"  
  
And so the start of a VERY important and philosophical conversation began, spanning the length of the entire movie and all the mutants present took part in it.  
  
But that's a story for later.  
  
*Location ~ Who Reads This? Nobody cares. It's not like an important piece of information or anything. . .*  
  
Kurt 'Bamfed' back into the institute. He'd had enough of all the talk about 'chickens' and 'road crossing'. He felt that if he ever hear someone speak those words in the same sentence again that he would not be able to control the strong urge to strangle them. Kurt noticed that nobody else was inside, and wandered if he could snatch something from the kitchen without Kitty noticing him.  
  
"Kurt?" Kitty's voice carried all the way to the foyer.  
  
Damn! he thought (actually he thought something similar to that in german. I think.)  
  
"Hey Nightcrawler! Check out my new creation!" called someone who definitely wasn't Kitty. Kurt's worst horrors were realized when he recognized the voice. It was Forge.  
  
"Come into the kitchen Kurt! I know you're there." This time it was Kitty.  
  
Death by a fiery dimension or death by food poisoning? Kurt pondered silently before 'Bamfing' to his undesired destination.  
  
*****  
  
Ok, ok. I'm lazy. It's been the holidays for a while and I still haven't managed to get my other fanfic done. You can grill me all you want for taking so long (go ahead, it might encourage me).  
  
-Rubber Duki 


End file.
